hundreds of years： It looks real； just like the
work of Bihzad。”
Of course； this isn’t the issue。 My paintings reveal what the mind； not the
eye； sees。 But painting； as you know quite well； is a feast for the eyes。 If you
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bine these two thoughts； my world will emerge。 That is：
ALIF：
Painting brings to life what the mind sees； as a feast for the eyes。
LAM： What the eye sees in the world enters the painting to the degree
that it serves the mind。
MIM：
Consequently； beauty is the eye discovering in our world what
the mind already knows。
Did the graduate of the miserable college understand this logic； which I’d
extracted with lightning inspiration from the depths of my soul？ Not at all。
Why？ Because； though you’ve spent three years seated at the foot of a hoja
who gives lessons in an out…of…the…way neighborhood religious school for
twenty silver coins a day—today you can buy twenty loaves of bread with that
amount—you still wouldn’t know who the hell Bihzad was。 It was obvious
that the twenty…coin Hoja Effendi didn’t know who Bihzad was either。 All
right then； let me explain。 I said：
“I’ve painted everything； absolutely everything： Our Prophet at the mosque
before the green prayer niche seated together with his four caliphs； in another
book； the Apostle and Prophet of God ascending the seven heavens on the
night of the Ascension； Alexander on his way to China banging on the drum of
a seaside temple to scare off a monster stirring up the ocean with storms； a
masturbating sultan spy